Alone
by lonecloudn
Summary: A troubled teenage boy finds himself alone and talks to himself.


What was it like to be depressed again?

Being whiffed off to a new damn school so suddenly was out of my range of expectations. It was out of my control.

It was okay, though.

I could be alone here more easily anyway. It wasn't like the last school; now, back there was a real sucker.

Once I had a decent amount of friends. It wasn't much, but definitely quality over quantity.

I felt the blood seeping through my shoes when I started thinking about my old school, but I didn't let that bother me. I just didn't care anymore.

Though, who the hell would've thought it was possible to move back in time? Heavenly Host Elementary school?

The school was horrible. Totally anachronistic and completely empty, bar the few corpses here and there.

I had been here for a while now; however, I didn't let that bother me.

My "friends" — or should I say classmates now — were nowhere to be seen. After that stupid charm was made, the ground ate us up like a drunk cannibal splurging off on his meals, hopelessly enslaved to his feelings of trauma from the recent breakup with his girl.

He just had to take out the sorrow on all of us. What a bastard.

My classmates stopped talking to me. They had lost interest — had lost hope in what I should have been.

I should have been more aware of myself, maybe.

Yes, it was my fault.

The air in the school didn't matter to me. Even though it reeked — reeked like all hell — it was better than real life. Too much blood.

This probably wasn't real, I thought.

I've thought of being a ghost in the past. I could go around haunting people. I could stop thinking about what job I should get in the future.

This place was close to that fantasy, but only the latter part it seemed.

Not in this dilapidated school house could I had been elated to scare people; there's no way back to the real world.

It was just a dark, cold atmosphere and it seemed perfect.

So, fine. Maybe I was a wretched teenager sulking over my angst of adolescence. Maybe I changed a little when I saw the first corpse in this school, heartbeat pounding as if my heart was trying to escape and all.

That was probably how I got here. I suggested that Sachiko Ever After charm because of my feelings. I felt lonely.

There was a claim that the charm would help us stay together forever. And, truthfully, I did want that horrible wish.

I did want to stay with my ex-friends because I wanted to try to heal relations with them. But I supposed that could never happen.

Come to think of it, maybe Sachiko was that drunken cannibal. That bitch.

I wanted to give her my thoughts on a platter, served up in ketchup reading "fuck you."

No, not ketchup. I'd probably just use the copious amounts of blood in this damn place. There was enough around me.

But, the more I thought about it, the more I related to this Sachiko person.

I never knew who she was other than the fact that she was probably a lousy woman with a torture complex. Or a miserable childhood.

Either way, I didn't feel depressed anymore.

There was no reason to be depressed in this place because nothing fucking mattered anymore.

Everyone was going to die, and I was sitting there, smiling.

Smiling because I had just related myself with a person whom I didn't even know and was probably a complete psychopath out for blood and guts of every single being that had set foot in this horrible dungeon of a school.

Not even set foot — just anyone curious enough to peek their head into a charm posted on the internet.

Yes, because every day of my past life was spent scouring the internet. Watching waiting. Replied so quick. Acted like I was happy. Tried to make new friendships. Watched trending trends.

Got rejected. Got ignored. Got temperamental alone. Cried alone — in my bed, mourning for myself.

Was I proud? Proud of what I had? Did I make an impact on anyone? I worried too much.

A lot of my generation must have had the same experiences too.

No, that last statement was bullshit.

No teenager should spend the last days of their lives in a death house.

Because if they did, they would forget what it was like to be sore about life.

They needed to suffer in that feeling. They would have never have grown otherwise.

Suffer had been of all of me.

I was so clean.

I eventually wished none of this would have happened.

I could not suffer anymore with my nerves shot up.

I supposed I should get to writing that letter to Sachiko. Should be enough to write with, all my friends around and all.


End file.
